


Yer a Werewolf, Remus

by PadnProng



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Werewolf Reveal, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-07 03:19:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11614782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PadnProng/pseuds/PadnProng
Summary: Nonetheless, James had to let go of these conceptions, because he couldn’t reconcile them with what he knew of Remus. He’d never really considered that a werewolf was a normal person for most of the month--or that they weren’t just scary grown-ups like Fenrir Greyback, but potentially kids like Remus.Taking a breath, James broke the silence. “Well, when all’s said and done, Remus is probably the least monster-like of all of us, so I suppose all that stuff everyone says about werewolves is just rubbish,” James concluded.





	1. Chapter 1

James wasn’t a stalker--at least not in his _own_ imagining of what a stalker was--but he had certainly developed some pretty grade-A stalker strategies in the past few months. For instance, James had a secret calendar that he only worked on with Sirius and Peter (or, really, that he worked on with Peter by association only, since Peter rarely helped--he was kind of just there). What were the contents of this secret calendar, you ask? Oh, only the whereabouts of their other best friend, Remus Lupin. 

So, okay, that sounded like some serious stalking, but James was convinced it was for a good cause. None of them quite bought Remus’ inconsistent excuses for where he disappeared to so often, so they took figuring out what was wrong into their own hands. They’d been tracking his absences from school, looking for a pattern.

James had the calendar spread out before the three of them on the dormitory floor. He chewed on the tip of his quill, observing the days of the month associated with the absences. Remus definitely disappeared around the same time each month...then another marking on the calendar jumped out at James, a little circle.

“Hey, guys…” he began hesitantly, pointing his index finger at the moon symbol. “Does it seem like...like Remus is always gone at the full moon?” James asked, looking up suddenly.

Sirius had been momentarily distracted from their task at hand by the leaping toadstool he had nicked from herbology class. And how amusing it was to hear Peter squeal when he plugged it into his nose. 

“Erm..” he responded distantly without removing his eyes from the pitiful leaping mushroom that was now bouncing from Peter’s scalp to his nose. Despite his lack of full attention, the information soon came to settle somewhere in his brain.

“Hang on..” he said, this time with investment as he looked up at James. “We did realize that he was disappearing monthly, right? Do the dates line up with the full moon?” He asked as he scrambled through earlier versions of the chart, going back into the spring of last year, which had been their first year at Hogwarts.

Peter frantically tried to extrecate the toadstool from his nose, “Sirius!” he whined. James chewed on his lip, paying Peter and Sirius’ antics no mind for the moment. He looked for the little moon marking on the pages as Sirius flipped through them. The calendar sheets had just come printed with the marking, James hadn’t really thought anything of it...until now.

“Yeah…” James confirmed, his voice hesitant, contemplative. “The dates all seem to be during and around the full moon.”

“The night of and day after, to be exact…” Sirius said quietly as he surveyed the chart, his eyes saccading with alacrity. He looked up at James with an astonished, thrilled gaze. This was the most significant breakthrough they had reached to date. He sat up from his relaxed pose on the floor to a more alert position with his legs crossed.

“What sicknesses relate to the lunar cycle?” Sirius asked breathlessly as he pulled over their tome on magical diseases and maladies. “What are Remus’ symptoms?” he asked, grabbing his quill and beginning to make a list on a stray piece of parchment, saying them aloud as they revealed themselves in his mind. “Exhaustion...weakness… malaise. Those are post-full moon..” His handwriting was nearly illegible but James and Sirius didn’t need the script to remember.

“I don’t see what any of this would have to do with the full moon,” Peter said dismissively.

James, meanwhile, remained quiet, nodding as Sirius spoke. “That sounds right,” he said, flipping through another one of the wizarding medical texts they’d taken out of the library. James looked up “moon” in the glossary, trailing his finger along an unfamiliar word--it instructed him to turn to the entry for _lycanthropy_. On a whim, James chose to turn to this term over all the others that were listed under “moon.”

“Oh…” James uttered aloud as he read the description--lycanthropy was simply the technical term for the condition of, well...being a werewolf. He resumed biting down into his lip, glancing up at Sirius. Was it insane to even mention it? He cleared his throat. 

“This, ah, this says a condition related to the moon is...being a werewolf,” he said. “I mean, duh,” James added as if to lighten the mood. “Let’s just see--let’s see what it says happens to people afterwards. You’d think they’d be all...strong and aggressive, right?” he reasoned, and then didn’t fit Remus at all. “Following the full moon,” James read aloud. “Werewolves often experience exhaustion, malaise, illness, muscle pain, and general weakness and aches of the body.” he trailed off, looking up again at Sirius.

At first, Sirius snorted with disbelief, then grinned. “Remus? A strong, aggressive werewolf?” he sniggered incredulously at the image. “That’s almost as fucked as Peter being a Gryffindor.” he scoffed but his grin vanished the moment James began to read off the exact symptoms he had scribbled down.

“That...I mean--those symptoms could be common for loads of…” Sirius attempted to justify the coincidences, but for once, words failed him. “Erm…I guess I dunno..” He said blankly as he swallowed hard, his expression becoming somber. 

But he did know. The similarities of symptoms and timing of Remus’ disappearances had too many uncanny similarities to lycanthrophy to be coincidence, and even as Sirius tried to dismiss the suggestion something inside him had completed the puzzle. He just didn’t want to see it. If they were right, which they must be, then every month Remus would transform into a killing monster, at least, that’s what he had been told about werewolves. And for how long had this been happening to him? Surely, the boys had recognized that Remus was suffering and that it must be something terrible if he would lie to his best friends to keep it a secret, but this is a completely different inconceivable level.

Sirius suddenly felt overwhelmingly sad. He met James’ gaze, knowing by his expression that he was experiencing similar thoughts.

James held Sirius’ gaze for a moment, then looked away, ruffling his hair, both in contemplation and in a somewhat anxious way. It made sense--the absences, how sick and frail he looked when he came back, the secretiveness. James’ mind played through every stereotype, every prejudice of what a werewolf was that he’d heard growing up--he’d always taken it for granted that they were monsters, since that’s what every story portrayed them as, whether fictional or real accounts from _The Prophet_ , and it was how everyone talked about them. 

Nonetheless, James had to let go of these conceptions, because he couldn’t reconcile them with what he knew of Remus. He’d never really considered that a werewolf was a normal person for most of the month--or that they weren’t just scary grown-ups like Fenrir Greyback, but potentially kids like Remus. 

Taking a breath, James broke the silence. “Well, when all’s said and done, Remus is probably the least monster-like of all of us, so I suppose all that stuff everyone says about werewolves is just rubbish,” James concluded. 

“Wait, I still don’t get it,” Peter said. “What are you lot talking about werewolves for?” 

Sirius listened to James and nodded his head eagerly. “Definitely.” he agreed with resolution. They knew Remus all too well to think otherwise.

His thoughtfulness ceased abruptly when Peter opened his mouth. “For fuck’s sake…” he groaned. “You really are a daft cow. Do I need to spell it out for you? With illustrations in case the words are too big for you?” Sirius spat impatiently. 

“Remus is a werewolf, you dim git.”

He turned back to James with his composure returning. “And we have to help him. Right?”

Peter’s eyes looked as if they were about to bulge out of his head. “A _werewolf_ , but they’re…”

James held his hand up, effectively cutting Peter off. “Don’t finish whatever was about to come after that but. We all know what werewolves are supposed to be, and we also all know who Remus is,” he resolved, not wanting to entertain even a moment of negativity against Remus. James fixed his eyes intently on Sirius and nodded. “Of course,” he said determinedly, then leaned back onto his elbows, surveying the books they’d already taken out. He sighed, “I think we’re going to need some different books.”

~~*~~

James was lounging on his bed in the middle of one of their research powwows several weeks later, reading a book he’d nicked from the forbidden section of the library. He was munching on chocolate frogs as he did, carelessly getting his chocolate covered fingers all over this priceless text that probably dated to the Middle Ages or something. He suspected this might be the very reason why some of these books were forbidden in the first place--they weren’t _all_ about dark magic, so it was probably more that the school didn’t want twelve year olds like James messing them up. But it was a necessary sacrifice--the chocolate got James’ brain working.

“Wait, so, animals _can’t_ be turned into werewolves, even if they get bit by one?” he asked, looking over at Sirius, not even really bothering to address Peter. James was never totally sure what Peter did during these “study” sessions, but he never contributed anything worthwhile. 

“So...Could I turn into a Werewolf by eating Remus’ food?” Peter asked once again from his bed as he continued to stuff Remus’ peppermint toads into his unhinged mouth.

Sirius had lost count of how many times Peter had asked them that. Considering how close they were to developing a plan to help Remus, he was currently in the midst of one of his frustrated states--And when Sirius was frustrated, someone had to suffer. This time (well, most of the time, really) it was Peter. Sirius was now lying with his back to the floor with an absurdly large and boring book levitated just above his face. As he finished scanning each section, the page would automatically turn itself. 

“I swear on Merlin’s beard,” Sirius growled slowly. “if you _ever_ ask me that _ever_ again I will stuff those toads so far up your arsehole that you’ll have to chew them and swallow them back down. If you’re not going to help us then at least shut your bloody face before I enchant the hairs on your head to lace your mouth permanently shut.” Sirius snarled.

James rolled his eyes and quietly marveled at what it must be like to want peppermint toads so badly you’d be willing to risk becoming a werewolf; not that you _could_ become a werewolf by sharing food with one, _obviously_ , but still. Peter’s uncertainty implied he’d been willing to take the risk.

Peter hid behind his bed curtains, whimpering softly. He hesitantly glanced out at Sirius, who returned his look with a fiery glare.

Sirius was mid-glare when he remembered that James had spoken to him--immediately his expression relaxed. He sat up onto his forearms and looked thoughtfully into something James and Peter could not see for a moment. 

“Erm, I dunno but...” He considered this concept, continuing to mentally search. “I mean--if you think about it, loads of animals have to coexist with werewolves. I’ve never heard of a were-beaver or some shite.” he sniggered. “It must only infect humans.”

James chewed thoughtfully on his lip. “And if animals can’t get it...there _are_ ways for wizards to turn into animals, right? Like McGonagall!” James jumped up into a sitting position in excitement. “Remember when she transformed from the cat on the first day of class?” he asked excitedly. “What was that called again? _We_ could do that! Then we could at least keep him company!”

“ANIMAGI,” Sirius burst out, his eyes wide with thrill as their eureka moment came to manifest. “THAT’S IT. We could become animagi!” He stood up, his heart pounding and began to pace the room in thought. “Not many people have done it but it’s obviously possible. And wizards certainly must have done it without having to register.. And then We could stay with Remus the entire time and he couldn’t possibly say no since as animals he won’t be able to infect us. You and I can figure it out, James. Let’s fucking do it.” He finished with a grin. 

“B..b..but.. wait...We’re not registered..” Peter squeaked. “Dumbledore wouldn’t let us register….” 

Sirius rolled his eyes and scoffed. “We’re not going to _register_ \--As I just _strongly_ implied, you dundering sloth. And Dumbledore’s not going to know. No one’s going to know..and no one’s going to tell.” He finished, eyeing Peter. “McGonagall must have books on it in her private collection..something to point us in the right direction.. One of us could schedule a meeting with her and distract her and the others could just take a look..”

“James..” Peter said in a pleading voice (realizing he was his only chance) as he sat on the end of James’ bed (making it sink on the side he was sitting on). “T..this is a bad idea.. We could get expelled, James.. We could go to Azkaban! This is illegal! I don’t think…..Sirius is just being….--”

Sirius snorted and interrupted him. “--We’ll put it to a vote then. Naturally, Peter chickens out. A true Gryffindor through and through. James, what do you say, mate?” he asked eagerly.

James beamed at Sirius, boldened by the encouragement and confirmation that this could work, they could do it. He turned to Peter as he spoke, his grin diminishing slightly, but only into a wry sort of smirk. “Peter,” he said as if reasoning with a petulant child. “We’re not going to register and we are certainly not going to tell Dumbledore anything,” he said, nodding in agreement with Sirius. James’ expression turned grave as Sirius insisted no one told, his eyes focused steadily on Peter in that moment, unblinking. 

“Do you think it’d work if we told her another class assigned us an essay on our favorite professor? We could interview her on being an animagus, how she did it. Maybe she’ll mention a few books and we can find them,” he suggested, then bit his lip, his thoughts growing ever bolder. “Or…” he trailed off for dramatic effect. “She may still have something in her office, and we do have an invisibility cloak,” James pointed out.

Peter’s only chance proved to be not much of a chance at all. James’ mind was utterly made up. “We won’t get expelled and no one is going to Azkaban,” he said dismissively. “Merlin’s beard, Pete, they don’t send kids to Azkaban. If we get caught--which we won’t--we plead ignorance. Say we forgot you had to register,” he shrugged, leaning back into his pillow. “Knowing Dumbledore, he’ll be impressed.”

“I’m in,” James said swiftly. “I’m all in.” 

Sirius’ smirk curled and the fire in his grey eyes flickered.


	2. McGonagall's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan was simple: Distract McGonagall and recover the goods she had on Animagi. Well, the plan was simple in _theory_ , that is. In reality, it’s nearly impossible to get one over Minerva McGonagall’s head--as evidenced by the towering pile of detention slips containing the names ‘James Potter and Sirius Black.’ Despite their grim odds, the boys considered themselves to be persevering overachievers in the field of mischief. If at first you do not succeed, try again--right?

The plan was simple: Distract McGonagall and recover the goods she had on Animagi. Well, the plan was simple in _theory_ , that is. In reality, it’s nearly impossible to get one over Minerva McGonagall’s head--as evidenced by the towering pile of detention slips containing the names ‘James Potter and Sirius Black.’ Despite their grim odds, the boys considered themselves to be persevering overachievers in the field of mischief. If at first you do not succeed, try again--right?

In second-year Transfiguration class, Sirius sat at his desk with his foot tapping wildly from anticipation while his eyes were fixed on the clock above Professor McGonagall. For some reason, gaping at the clock was not helping it to move any faster. He was almost offended.

Sirius’ eyes began to sting when his cornea became arid from lack of blinking. He decided to abandon his intimidate-the-clock approach to passing the time. Instead, he scribbled a note on a black piece of parchment and casually tipped his chair back to subtly attract the glance of his best mate way across the room (clearly Mcgonagall had strategically selected their seating arrangements). 

He hadn’t just yet mastered the art of nonverbal spells, and so subtly coughed into his fist and muttered a spell that intricately folded the note he had written into a tiny animated paper spider. It covertly crawled across the room and clambered onto James’ lap.  
The note was written in a script using a powerful encryption charm so that the letters shuffled their places at random. But Sirius’ penmanship was so poor that the charm was practically unnecessary. The decrypted note read:

_One of us here has failed the exam. A Hint: his name directly translates to ‘The Reliably feckless stubby Heffer’_

_He’ll be getting a lecture from Minnie post-class, no doubt._

_Methinks ineptitude could be used in our favour._

_P.S: I can smell Snivelly from here._

_-With love from 7,000 kilometers away_

The letter also included a crude animated drawing of an ongoing popular conversation topic between the boys: Professor Binns’ alleged death. In this scenario, alive professor Binns was being kicked in the face by a sneezing centaur.

James had been paying about as much attention to McGonagall’s lecture as his twelve-year-old mind could devote--he actually liked Transfiguration best, not that that equated to better behavior. James didn’t even have any parchment before him to take notes, but was instead just listening to McGonagall and committing what she said to memory, picturing what she was explaining in his head. Despite his relative attentiveness, James could sense Sirius as if an electric current had just run through him--his eyes immediately darted over in Sirius’ direction, and then with as much discipline as he could muster, looked back at McGonagall, watching the paper spider crawl its way over to him out of the corner of his eye. Once he felt it crawling up his leg, James discreetly opened it in his lap.

There could be no doubt which of them was failing. James looked over half-sympathetically at Peter. It wasn’t as though James didn’t _try_ to help him, he just had very little patience and not the faintest clue how to explain something that seemed obvious to him. James dug his quill out of his bag and turned the parchment over:

_Might as well make the best of a bleak situation. You go for her office, I’ll stand in as back up with some question or Quidditch thing. Probably will seem more natural coming from me. What do we do about Remus?_

James paused to look up at the back of their friend’s sandy-blonde head. He was bent over, diligently taking notes, ever the model student. Peter occasionally looked frantically over his shoulder, no doubt trying to make sense of what he was writing. Remus was not likely to miss James and Sirius ruffling through McGonagall’s things, and he would most definitely ask questions. James felt a familiar pang of guilt at excluding Remus, but he knew if there was anyone who could talk them out of this, it was Remus himself. He couldn’t know.

_Maybe I’ll distract Remus and be ready to step in with McG._

_P.S. Smells like a bad fish and chips place on a summer night._

_Fondly,  
Your Friend on Isolation Island_

James had to smother a snort at the drawing Sirius had made of Binns. He sucked on the end of his quill, trying to think of a good retort, then eventually doodled Binns boring himself to death, falling asleep and suffocating in his own book. Slipping his wand out of his pocket, James pointed it at the parchment now in his lap and covered his mouth as he muttered a spell to transform it into a tiny paper fly that looped through the air and over to Sirius. 

Sirius eagerly watched the paper-fly land before him on his notes (which were covered in doodles) and swiftly unfolded the note. After using the decryption charm, He scanned James’ response and failed to suppress a soft snicker at James’ cartoon.

And then it happened:

“Mr. Black,” 

Of course McGonagall caught the laugh. 

“I’m thrilled to find that you share my enthusiasm for the engorgement charm. Could you now tell us about the casting, duration and success outcome of its counter-spell?” Mcgonagall asked, her hawk-stare burning unblinkingly through Sirius’ soul.

Upon hearing his name, Sirius’s eyes grew as wide and round as two galleons.. In that horrific split second, he believed he’d been had. He quickly came to his senses, collected himself and assumed his natural haughty disposition.

“Erm...Counter-spell: shrinking charm. Casting time: one round. Duration: one scene. Excellent success entails shrinking the target one hundredth its original size, obviously…” He began to recite with bored monotony. Sirius so very badly wanted to add a snide remark such as _‘you know, its the spell Merlin permanently cast on Snape’s knob before he was born’_ \--but for the sake of the mission, he restrained himself.

Professor McGonagall was satisfied enough with this answer but continued to eye Sirius and James for the remaining duration of class. Sirius waited until the perfect moment to send back the note with a pithy statement:

_Put your cloak in my backpack once the bell rings and then we commence._

_Don’t let Pete escape._

Once the bell rang, Sirius unzipped his backpack and began to collect his things at a markedly slower pace than usual. 

Peter, on the other hand, was moving faster than he probably ever had in his entire life. The combination of vaguely knowing that a scheme was unfolding and the fact that it was now lunch time were both major adrenaline boosters. He stuffed stray bits of parchment hurriedly into his backpack, losing any hope for organization, and already he was perspiring. Professor McGonagall had requested to have a word with him but she was temporarily distracted as she was using a spell to erase the blackboard. This was Peter’s moment.

James was swift to block Peter’s escape route. He strode across the room, discreetly dropped his invisibility cloak from his own bag into Sirius’, then stood directly in Peter’s face.

“Pete. Don’t you have to talk to Professor McGonagall?” he asked, his tone communicating a great deal more than a casual reminder.

Peter’s face dropped and he opened his mouth, considering what would happen if he just told James that he was out, they’d have to do this without him, but then--

“Yes, Mr. Pettigrew, I _would_ like to speak with you for a moment,” Professor McGonagall said sternly. Peter trembled at the mere sound of her voice.

“Y-yes, Professor.”

As Peter sulked over to McGonagall, James sauntered over to Remus. “Reckon we could do a lot of interesting stuff with those engorgement and shrinking spells, don’t you think?” he asked, leaning in towards him so McGonagall wouldn’t hear--and so Remus wouldn’t see Sirius disappearing under an invisibility cloak and sneaking off into McGonagall’s office.

Remus’ face twisted into a wry smile. He may have been the least offensive of them, but Remus was just as mischievous. “I’m sure we could think of about a hundred questionable uses,” he murmured as he packed his things up.

Once Sirius confirmed that he had found his opportune moment, he threw the cloak over his head and nimbly headed towards the large door leading to McGonagall’s office. The joy on Sirius’ face was unmistakable as he stepped into the private office of his most revered (and feared) professor. The secrets this room must hold..He let the cloak drop to the floor as he dazedly looked around. The awe faded a bit, and then, a lot, when he realized the sheer volume of books Professor McGonagall kept in here. This was not going to be as simple as he’d thought. He groaned and began to search, his excitement thoroughly dimmed.

“Sit, please.” Mcgonagall started, offering Peter the chair directly in front of her desk. “Mr. Pettigrew, I’m sure you understand why we must speak.” She began with a soft sigh. She felt rather sorry for the small plump boy, she knew he had been trying..for the most part. “Your marks for this term, Mr. Pettigrew, are deeply concerning..” She frowned. “Unfortunately I’ll have to write your mother again..”

Sirius grew weary from inspecting the bookshelves after a rather short period of time and began to rummage through the papers on McGonagall’s desk instead. His heart leapt when he suddenly realized that he had just scanned a letter with a familiar name on it. He looked back at it again and, yes.. The letter clearly read:

_Mrs.Walburga Black_  
Number 12 Grimmauld Place  
London 

”Oh _bugger_ …” Sirius grumbled with horror.

“How is the tutoring going on with Mr. Lupin?” McGonagall asked with a frown. “Shall I speak with one of the other boys? Perhaps they too can assist you. Potter certainly can help, can’t you Mr. Potter..?” She asked, noticing that he and Remus were still nearby. “...What are you still doing here, Potter..” Her eyes narrowed slightly. The boys never stuck around class, especially not when it was lunchtime. 

James felt his heart lurch, and Remus frowned, wondering himself why James was talking to him _here_ and not taking the conversation on the move to the Great Hall, but then--Remus’ brow furrowed at the realization--where was Sirius? 

Clearing his throat to shake the nerves, James explained, “Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something I was interested in from class, but only once you’re done talking with Peter.” McGonagall and Remus both looked weary, but not fully suspicious--Transfiguration was James’ favorite subject and the only one he really devoted some extra attention and effort towards. McGonagall assessed his claim trustworthy, then nodded her head.

“Alright, then, we can speak after. But Mr. Pettigrew needs more intensive tutoring.” She went on, addressing James, though still eyeing him suspiciously--it was more or less her default expression when it came to Potter or Black. “We’ll put together a schedule for him. When you have practice perhaps we can have Mr. Black assist as well..” She sounded far less sure about that last bit. “Don’t worry, Mr. Pettigrew, we’ll help sort this out for you.” She said sympathetically.

Sirius listened for their voices; hearing that they were all still conversing, he ripped opened the letter:

  _Dear Mrs. Black,_

_I am writing in response to your requests regarding your son Sirius’s upcoming term progress assessment for the subject of Transfiguration. Despite Sirius’ s high marks on exams, I cannot honour your requests to adjust his overall term assessment.  
As we have discussed at several points both by owl and in-person, students at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry do not receive marks based on their intellectual potential and ancestry. Especially when given that that the student in question spends at least four nights per week in detention for Transfiguration alone._

_Additionally, as you already know, I cannot and will not grant your secondary request of switching Sirius’s house. Speaking on behalf of the Gryffindor house, our loyalty never wavers._

_You will have to take that one up with the sorting hat._

_Always a pleasure,  
Minerva McGonagall_

“Oh, sweet christmas hippogriffs--I love her.” He whispered with glee, then returned the letter to its envelope and placed it back on the desk. Surely, he’d receive a howler (or several dozen) in response, but the sending of this letter was dire. As he put the letter down his noticed a basket containing a cat scratching post directly beneath the desk. He knew he was very close now.

“What is it that you need, then, Mr. Potter?” Sirius heard Professor McGonagall ask from the otherside of the door.

James shifted his weight from one leg to another, anxiously wondering what was taking Sirius so long. Remus watched James intently as well, becoming all the more alarmed at Sirius’ absence.

“I was curious about the body weight aspect of the formula you taught us,” James explained. “What impact does it have on wand power and concentration if there’s a great disparity between the body weights in the objects you’re trying to transfigure?” he questioned. “Say, for example, if you try to transfigure something of a much lighter weight into something three or four times the original weight? Or if it’s the other way around, too, something of much greater weight into something much smaller?” James had to refrain from grinning at himself--not only did he effectively stall for Sirius, but he managed to ask McGonagall a question about the animagus transformation without being at all obvious.

McGonagall’s eyes glinted subtly, the way they often did when she recognized a student who was genuinely engaged in her subject. “It would require a proportional increase in the amount of wand power and concentration, meaning if you are trying to transfigure an object into something three or four times greater or smaller the original weight, the wand power and concentration need to be three or four times greater than normal. It takes a great deal of practice.”

James nodded, running his teeth across his bottom lip in eager anticipation. “That makes sense,” he said, a plan already forming in his mind of the training they’d need to do in preparation of their transformations--he could make it like Quidditch. Peter and Sirius alike might protest, but magic was not unlike Quidditch--if you wanted to get better, you had to practice, and practice often. “So, if you _really_ want to get better at Transfiguration, you need to regularly work on your overall wand work and concentration,” he said.

Professor McGonagall nodded. “Yes, of course, Potter. You can’t run off natural talent alone, you’ll plateau quickly that way.” 

“Of course, Professor,” James said with a slight smirk--she unintentionally admitted that he did have natural talent.

Silently, Sirius hurriedly searched the area surrounding the pet item and was disappointed to come up empty handed. He trusted James’ ability to prattle on, but certainly if he took any longer McGonagall would become suspicious. He was so sure something would be right around here...He began to stand up form under the desk with defeat when suddenly he felt his head collide with something he hadn’t accounted for. He examined the belly of McGonagall’s desk and realized he had discovered a secret compartment.

Excitement struck as he assessed the keyhole attached to the compartment. It clearly was charmed to repel any unlocking spell, however, Sirius had other tricks. He dug deep into his robes and recovered his enchanted pocket knife, and slipped it into the keyhole. Much to his delight, the keyhole turned and the drawer opened. 

Inside, Sirius found McGonagall’s animagus certificate, some other official documentation on her registry...and a book, which upon further investigation, Sirius discovered was an animagi training manual issued directly from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This was it.

Sirius swapped the book cover with one of his own textbooks of equal weight and size and put it back into the drawer. He would have to eventually return to switch the book back, but that wasn’t the priority just then.

All he wanted to do now was celebrate his victory, but they weren’t in the clear just yet. Sirius threw the cloak back over his head, slipped silently back out of the office and then finally crept out of the classroom into the corridor. There, he removed the cloak and stuffed it into his backpack. Once he was visible, he appeared in the classroom doorway.

“I’m _STARVING_.” He burst out, feigning his propensity for irritation. “Can we get on with this sometime before I turn grey?!” He crossed his arms in protest and tried to appear haughty, but purposefully avoided Remus’ eye. Like James, keeping all of this from Remus had brought Sirius immense guilt.

Remus, James, and McGonagall turned at Sirius’ outburst; Remus’ brow furrowed, as he couldn’t remember Sirius ever leaving the classroom; James smirked, cool as a cucumber; McGonagall’s lips pursed instinctively at an outburst from Black.

Peter had never been more happy to listen to Sirius. He instantly bounded across the classroom without so much as a good bye to his professor.

James cleared his throat, “Well, Professor, I would love to talk to you more about Transfiguration and my natural talent, but it seems I need to feed the beast. He has a tendency to destroy property when he’s hungry,” he informed her, as if talking about a rare breed of magical creatures.

McGonagall’s lips twitched infinitesimally in amusement at James’ remark. “Yes, well, I certainly won’t stand for any of _my_ property being destroyed, so I suppose you better go.” Her expression turned sharp as she looked over at Peter’s retreating figure from across the classroom. “Mr. Pettigrew! I wasn’t quite finished with you yet,” she called. “I _do_ hope to see some progress with the tutoring efforts redoubled.”

Peter paled. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

McGonagall nodded her head. “Good. Now, go, all of you.” 

At this point, none of them needed to be told twice. James caught Sirius’ eye once they were decidedly out of McGonagall’s view. He raised his eyebrow inquisitively behind Remus’ back.

The smug expression Sirius wore and the electricity in his eye told James everything that he needed to know. Their mission was a success. Sirius gave Peter a triumphant slap on the rump to silently indicate that he served his role well--or, in the very least, stating that he didn’t blow the whole thing. 

Peter kept his gaze down at his shoes.

“Where did you run off to?” Remus asked pointedly. 

Sirius abruptly ceased his unspoken dialogue with James when Remus spoke to him.

“Oh...erm...the loo,” he muttered culpably. “Was about to burst.” he added a bit more playfully, but he still had a shifty, uncomfortable look about him.

Remus frowned at this, not quite buying it--he could sense Sirius’ discomfort and knew it could mean nothing good. He opened his mouth to challenge Sirius some more, but got cut off.

“--So, Pete. About our tutoring lessons,” Siris promptly changed the subject as he put his arm around Peter. “I was considering which method would elicit the best results, and then I realized, what better way is there to retain knowledge than through fear? Say, for instance, whenever you answer one of my questions wrong, I stuff your head down the toliet and flush. Should do the trick.” he suggested with a wide grin before turning to James. 

“James, quite like myself, you’re a learned lad. Inform dearest Mr. Pettigrew about the beneficial usages of terror in education.”

Peter turned to Sirius, stricken, “You wouldn’t,” he said, but didn’t look at all sure of it. 

Sirius cocked his eyebrow at Peter, which without words told him, ‘oh. yes I would.’

Remus shook his head, deciding to let it go for now--when it came to Sirius, all tended to reveal itself sooner or later, anyway. “What teaching book did you learn that from?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, I know exactly what Sirius is talking about,” James smirked. “McGonagall makes good use of this method herself, but I’m not sure it’s really working on Peter,” he pointed out.

“True enough,” Sirius responded to James and mocked contemplation by putting his index finger to his lips. “Perhaps public humiliation, then?” He suggested. “I hope you’re wearing knickers today, mate.” he said evasively to Peter with a devious smirk as he released him from his grip.

They arrived at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and began to assume their places. One of the third year boys had taken Sirius’ reserved spot on the bench. By no account was this acceptable. He scorched him with the infamous Black flaming glare that Sirius had inherited from his mother. Eventually, the boy awkwardly abandoned his place at the table. He may have been older and larger than Sirius, but even from a twelve-year-old that stare could turn the bravest men to ash.

As the boys began to pile food onto their plates, Sirius slyly recovered the book he had discovered in Mcgonagall’s office from his backpack and brought it up just enough so that only James could see the title. 

“Let’s get started tonight!” he began excitedly, but then exchanged glances with Remus. “...On those tutoring lessons…” he added in a mumble. He had turned to Peter as he spoke, but clearly this was meant for James. 

James’ eyes widened at the sight of the manual. He grinned broadly, but then cringed at the obvious outburst. Remus looked perplexed.

“You never seemed much interested in joining our tutoring sessions in the past,” he pointed out. 

Sirius intentionally stuffed a loaded spoon of potatoes into his mouth to delay his need to respond to Remus.

“I mean, I reckon I’ve always been an appreciator of humiliation,” he reasoned as they all continued to sloppily eat. “We all have our strengths, after all...James has quidditch, Peter has eating, you’re pretty good at not getting detention, and my talents are in humiliating people.”

Peter couldn’t even hear his friends, being so engrossed (and completely covered) in his meal. Thus, confirming Sirius’ assessment of him.  
Remus chuckled a bit, “Oh? Is that my only talent? Not getting detention?” he grinned. “I should probably find new friends if I want to stay good at that.”

“Probably,” James agreed, relieved that Sirius seemed to have managed to successfully throw Remus off their trail.

Remus frowned a bit then, “But I’m not sure if I want you hanging around tutoring if you’re just going to make fun.”

“Fine. I can tell when I’m not wanted,” Sirius simpered with a grin curling at the corner of his lip. “James will appreciate my company, then.” Although he joked, this presented an opportunity to evade Remus that night and break open the Ministry book with James. And they wouldn’t have to worry about lying to Remus now. He shot James a knowing look. James smiled in return.

“Yeah, I’m not sure if I’ll be more of a hindrance or a help, honestly.”

“Probably more of a hindrance,” Remus remarked. 

James laughed, “Well, all right then, if you have any pressing Transfiguration questions later, you know where to find me, but otherwise I’ll leave you to it.”

Peter, meanwhile, sighed with relief. They couldn’t be sure if the sigh originated from his reassurance that Sirius would not be able to bother him later, or if it was just related to the completion of his lunch.

The students began to disperse from the Great Hall, signaling the end of lunchtime. The boys began to climb from the bench with far less enthusiasm than they had when they arrived. The end of lunchtime meant the return to class.

Even Remus sighed. “History of Magic,” he said. “So much potential. So wasted.” 

James groaned, hauling himself slowly from his seat. “Let’s take the long way. Maybe we’ll get caught on a moving staircase, that wouldn’t be our fault, now would it?”

Remus shrugged, “Binns won’t notice,” he pointed out, as Peter tore himself reluctantly from lunch.

“Very true,” James agreed, falling into pace behind Sirius. Part of him very much wanted to mosey on over to History in order to miss as much of the class as possible without cutting. Another part of him wanted to speed through the rest of the day in order to get to tonight, when he and Sirius could start taking some action.

But no matter how fast he moved, he wouldn’t be able to move time any faster.


	3. Moment of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius wordlessly crossed the room and joined James and Remus. He sat with his legs crossed under him and put his hand on Remus’ shoulder, looking at Remus with a sympathetic but steady gaze. Even Peter came over and squeezed onto the bed between them--all four of them together now.
> 
> “We know,” Sirius repeated. “And we’re here for you. We’re here _with_ you.”
> 
> “You don’t have to be alone,” Peter added in a faint, yet sincere whisper.

James stood before his trunk, wand pointed and brow furrowed in an attempt to render the requisite wand power and concentration. The goal was to transfigure this hulking mass of a thing into a matchbox. This was the sort of thing he wasn’t supposed to learn how to do until fourth or fifth year, large objects into much smaller ones and vice versa; but James would need to master this way sooner than that if they had any hope of becoming animagi before they graduated. 

“ _Flintifors_!” James cried in an attempt to transfigure his trunk into a tiny matchbox. His trunk rocked violently, but retained its form.

“Argh!” he groaned, collapsing onto his bed in frustration. James ran his fingers through his hair--he’d hoped that they’d be able to get their animagi transformations down in time for the next full moon--now that that was _tomorrow_ , James realized the impossibility of this. Becoming an animagus essentially required being an expert in Transfiguration, and apparently that could not be done in four weeks.

Sirius and Peter were giggling at James from Sirius’ bed. Sirius lounged with his hands behind his head and bare feet crossed while Peter was granted access to huddling on the very edge of the bed.

“Sorry, mate,” Sirius sniggered. “You looked like you were trying to pinch one off.”

This comment sent Peter into a roaring fit of laughter--mostly, he was probably just pleased to not be the one accused of soiling himself for once.

“You did look like that, James! Sincerely, you did! Pinched one off!” Peter exclaimed with glee through hysterics.

James rolled his eyes, “McGonagall said you need to double, maybe even triple or quadruple your concentration and wand power,” he insisted. In moments like these, it was clear who was the Quidditch player out of the three of them--James had persistence, he was good at doing things over and over and over again until he eventually got better. He _would_ eventually get better, but he couldn’t be too sure about these two--especially Peter. 

Nonetheless, James couldn’t help but smirk and snort lightly at Peter’s outburst. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was laughing with or _at_ Peter, though.

Sirius’ smile slowly faded as Peter’s ecstatic laughter lingered for too long. He watched him with a sour, displeased look before promptly pushing Peter’s back with his foot, sending Peter crashing from the bed to the floor.

Sirius himself had also attempted the spell..once. After one failed attempt he gave up. He was accustomed to having a knack for magic, but something this advanced was going to take practice and patience. Two things Sirius disliked.

He then leaned over to his record player and tinkered with it until _Moonage Daydream_ began to play. Evidently, practice had ended for today.

James sighed, looking between Peter and Sirius as music filled the room. “So. Anyway. Looks like we’re not going to become animagi in the next twenty-four hours. “What should we do in the meantime? Should we tell Remus we know, so he doesn’t have to keep making excuses for us?”

From the floor, Peter grunted. “I think probably-maybe we should tell Remus...Sincerely, I dunno how much longer I can hold it in. I mean, only if James thinks so. James, do you think so?” Peter asked, turning to James--needing his constant assurance and approval.

James raised his eyebrows at having the question _he’d_ posed now turned back at him. “Well...I think maybe we might as well. He probably worries about us finding out, yeah? So we should let me know that we know, and it’s alright.”

“Well, If _James_ thinks so, then I think so.” Sirius mocked in an exaggerated impression of Peter’s voice with a self-satisfied smirk without looking up from the issue of a muggle magazine, _NME_ , that he had taken up scanning.

“But, really, we should tell him,” he continued, seriously this time as he looked at James. “I’ve honestly been feeling like a shit-friend the past few weeks…Let’s tell him before the next full moon tomorrow. Maybe it’ll help him to feel better?” Sirius offered, he honestly did not have a clue what it must be like to have to transform into a werewolf--but judging by Remus’ poor health, it certainly must not be pleasant. 

As if on cue, Remus entered the dormitory. He always tended to do his homework and study in the library--something about not being able to focus around all of them, whatever that meant. James had just opened his mouth to respond to Sirius, but then swiftly closed it and fell silent. Did they just tell Remus _now_? And how did they tell him? What if they were actually wrong and he really did just have some weird illness? But, no, he was definitely a werewolf. Had to be.

Remus froze mid-step, looking between the three of them with a half-amused, half-weary expression. “What are you lot up to?” 

Sirius froze in place upon Remus’ entrance. He shot James a furtive glance. Although he had sounded so sure of himself just before, now that Remus was actually present, maintaining that same courage suddenly became far more difficult. But this clearly was the moment he had been describing...He instinctively sat up from his repose to a more alert position.

Peter audibly gasped when his eyes fell on Remus. He stood up with difficulty from the floor and began to unsteadily head towards the door, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom. 

“Oye, get back here!” Sirius called after Peter before facing Remus. He took a deep breath.

“Er...Could we talk to you?” tentativeness did not suit Sirius. “And by _we_ I mean _all_ of us,” he went on firmly, fixating on Peter. James crossed the room and blocked his way, steering him back further into the room.

The smile dropped from Remus’ face and shifted into a look of deep uncertainty as he looked between his friends. This wasn’t their normal sort of strange--this felt different. Serious. He’d never heard Sirius use that tone of voice--and had Peter gasped at him?

“Sure…” Remus said hesitantly, moving over towards his own bed and sitting down, gazing intensely between James and Sirius. “What’s going on?” he asked again, this time his voice somber.

He felt a pang of nervousness all of a sudden. It was right before the full, and he had worried that his friends--his ridiculous, but clever friends--would one day put two-and-two together, but most of the time, Remus was able to push thoughts like that to the far crevices of his mind. They tended to come more to the surface around the full, and maybe that’s all it was--full moon induced paranoia. It wouldn’t have been the first time he felt it. Remus tried to dismiss the thought, because it was unbearable to imagine what would inevitably happen next. It could be anything, Remus reasoned. James could have had his cloak confiscated, or--yet, as Remus tried to think of other rationales, he felt his stomach churn and the color drain from his face. A physical manifestation of the anxiety he was inarguably feeling. 

Remus had often imagined walking into their dormitory one day to this, after all.

James frowned as he observed Remus. He looked ill--and iller by the second. Really, the vague “he’s sickly,” excuse could have worked well enough, if they hadn’t noticed the full moon pattern.

“Listen, Remus, it’s about your disappearances. We...want to talk to you about what’s really going on,” he said. Remus’ eyes widened, and James watched as he, incredibly, became even paler after all the color already seemed to have left him. James noticed he was gripping the folds of his comforter.

“I--” Remus began, but found his mouth suddenly too dry and his throat too tight to get much else out. He tried to clear it. Remus felt his heart speed up and, much to his embarrassment, moisture gather in his eyes. He’d never imagined having friends like these, who were funny and bold and who somehow seemed to enjoy his company as much as he did theirs. Remus had never imagined having friends at all, until coming to Hogwarts. He couldn’t bear to lose them, and he felt as though he was about to.

Then, James stood up from his own bed and sat down beside Remus, wrapping an arm firmly around him. “We know--you’re a werewolf,” he said, simple as that.

Sirius wordlessly crossed the room and joined James and Remus. He sat with his legs crossed under him and put his hand on Remus’ shoulder, looking at Remus with a sympathetic but steady gaze. Even Peter came over and squeezed onto the bed between them--all four of them together now.

“We know,” Sirius repeated. “And we’re here for you. We’re here _with_ you.” 

“You don’t have to be alone,” Peter added in a faint, yet sincere whisper.

Remus almost couldn’t comprehend what was happening. This was not how the scene had ever played out in his mind. They were supposed to be terrified and repulsed--that’s the way people felt about werewolves, after all. And that’s the way Remus had always felt about _himself_. They were supposed to leave him. But they they didn’t leave. In fact, they joined him. As Remus watched his three best friends unite together with him, he became so moved that some of the tears welled up in his eyes silently rolled down his cheeks. But these weren’t tears of sadness. He still wasn’t able to get words passed his throat, but looked from Peter to Sirius to James in sheer amazement.

“We’ll always be here for you,” James promised.

Remus hastily wiped his eyes. “I never expected--” he began, but then paused. He had to fight the urge to rationalize with them, to ask them if they were _sure_ this was how they felt--but then he realized how stupid that would be. Remus didn’t want to convince them to no longer be friends with him, and as he looked at the three of them surrounding him, he realized with full, unwavering certainty for the first time that he couldn’t convince them to stop being his friends even if he tried. It’s not that Remus had ever thought they were prejudiced--he just always thought that no matter how people felt about muggleborns or muggles, they usually still hated werewolves, and not always without good reason. So their friendship had always felt somewhat illusory and conditional--not anymore.

“Thank you,” he said, finally.

~~*~~

As soon as classes got out the following day, James headed up to the Hospital Wing with Sirius and Peter. They probably would have skipped classes altogether if it wasn’t for the fact that Madame Pomfrey was well aware of the daily schedule and never would have permitted them to stay when she knew they should be in class.

James had never really gone to see Remus in the Hospital Wing--mainly, because Remus rarely admitted that that was where he’d gone off to. In first year in particular, Remus wouldn’t say much of anything at all, he’d just be gone. As they became closer, sometimes Remus would say he was sick, but with something that wouldn’t be conducive to visitors, like a stomach bug. Other times, he’d say he was cramming for an exam or even that he’d gone home to visit his parents, who were sick. It was always something. But now that they knew what was going on, of course, they would be there. 

The three burst into the Hospital Wing, talking raucously amongst themselves, as usual. Madame Pomfrey stormed out of her office and across the Hospital Wing upon hearing them, a reprimand sharp on her tongue, but to James’ surprise, she softened slightly at the sight of them.

“Potter. Black. Pettigrew,” she said by way of greeting. “Please, lower your voices,” she demanded, her own voice hushed, but intense. Then, that almost gentle look resurfaced. “Are you here to see Mr. Lupin?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” James answered. 

Madame Pomfrey smiled a bit, but then turned serious again, “Well, alright, he’s behind the curtain. But no rough-housing, boys, I mean it. I’ll throw you right out as quickly as you came.”

“We wouldn’t _dream_ of it, Madam Pomfrey,” Sirius explained with an angelic smile as he waved her farewell. Once she had returned to her office, he dumped his robes and backpack to the middle of the floor and strode over to Remus’ closed curtains.

“Mr. Lupin,” Sirius exaggeratedly imitated Madam Pomfrey. “You have visitors. They’re very good looking--except for the four-eyed one and the plump one, that is.” he said before tearing back Remus’ curtains. 

James put all his chaser bulk into ramming Sirius with his shoulder, breaking their no rough-housing promise mere seconds after it was made. 

Peter pursed his lips at Sirius once he registered the insult but scooted to Remus as the curtains opened. “It’s us: James, Sirius, and Peter!” he exclaimed, in case Remus hadn’t realized.

Remus looked surprised to have visitors, unaccustomed to anyone coming other than Madame Pomfrey, and occasionally McGonagall and Dumbledore. He laughed warmly at Peter’s comment, “Yes, I’d figured that out.”

James surveyed Remus quietly. He didn’t look great; he looked weak and exhausted--but happy, and James thought that had to count for something, and maybe it counted for a lot. “We brought you something,” he said, revealing a box of chocolate mice. “Convinced the House Elves to make some fresh. I also took notes for you today, which was considerably more work than the chocolate, so I hope you like them all the better for it.”

Remus grinned and sat up slowly, accepting the gifts. “Oh, believe me, I know how hard that must have been for you,” he said, “So, thank you, truly.”

“I would’ve taken notes for you,” Sirius added as he flopped onto the end of Remus’ bed. “But neither you nor I would have been able to read them. You _do_ know how the House Elves feel about me, though. So my contributions were immense.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Remus said.

Peter followed Sirius onto the edge of the bed, getting his shoes in his face. “That’s a pretty big box..” he noted, observing the chocolate. “Alot for one person to eat..”

Sirius rolled his eyes at Peter. “Please. You daily consume three times that amount of candy as a mid-afternoon snack. And they’re not for you, you prat.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “I think I can handle it, but you can have some,” he agreed, ignoring Sirius’ rebuttal. Peter gleefully ignored Sirius as well and dug in.

“Not _too_ many,” James instructed, and Peter instantly complied with James’ demand. He smirked for a moment in triumph, then turned contemplative. There was something he wanted to ask, but James didn’t know if it was the right time--then again, he wasn’t sure there would ever be quite the right time for this question.

“What?” Remus asked, ever observant, as he popped a chocolate mouse into his mouth.

James shook his head, “Nothing, just...you don’t have to answer, but I was wondering--” he trailed off, still hesitant about broaching the subject.

“How it happened?” Remus asked, lowering his voice.

James nodded.

Remus frowned a little bit, but decided not to dodge it. There was relief in not caring these secrets anymore. “Well...my father works for the Department of Magical Creatures,” he explained, for the first time, in fact--Remus loved his parents, but he was never sure how much information might be too much. “He’s an expert on...on dark creatures,” he said, stumbling on the word. “When we were young, Fenrir Greyback--I’m sure you’ve heard of him--he...murdered two muggle children,” Remus said, and James saw how he shuddered at the name. “They brought him into the Ministry for questioning, and my father was one of the people to interrogate him. Greyback insisted he was a muggle, and only my father saw through him, the Werewolf Registry wasn’t very good or up-to-date then,” he explained. “Everyone else laughed at my father, and he got angry and...said some nasty things about werewolves, in front of Greyback,” Remus continued, then began to play with the freys of the blanket. “So...Greyback wanted revenge, and he came into my room one night, and he...bit me. I was five.”

James could tell just from looking at Remus how much it hurt him to bring the memory back to the surface. “I’m sorry--I shouldn’t have asked, I just--”

Remus shook his head. “No. It’s better you know. Of course you’d wonder.”

“Bloody hell…” Sirius responded in horrific awe as he propped his hands to look at Remus. “That’s… _bloody hell_...” He had always imagined that his own childhood had been bad...between the purist fanatics, unending lessons, and cold mother. But Remus quite literally lived through a nightmare. 

“Sorry, mate,” he frowned. “But we want to help now. We’ll be with you right before you go and as soon as we can, we’ll come see you like this. Whatever we can do. I dunno if that helps but…” he trailed off.

“No, it helps,” Remus said quickly, nearly cutting Sirius off. “I can’t tell you how much it helps,” he said earnestly. James and Peter smiled in turn.

James jumped as he felt movement behind him. He was stunned to see that Professor Dumbledore had made an entrance, with Madame Pomfrey behind him. 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled at the sight of them all. “Why, young Masters Potter, Black, Pettigrew, _and_ Lupin,” he remarked.

“Hello, Professor Dumbledore,” James greeted, still wide-eyed. He felt like they’d been caught, but then he began to realize that Dumbledore must know--he was the one who’d granted Remus admission, after all.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just wanted to check in on how you were feeling, Mr. Lupin.”

“I’m alright, Professor. Thank you,” he said.

“And it seems someone’s brought you notes?” Dumbledore arched an eyebrow, observing the parchment on Remus’ lap. “I’ll have to tell Professor McGonagall she needn’t worry, then.”

“It was me, Professor,” James said quickly, shamelessly eager to bask in Dumbledore’s esteem. Yet, Dumbledore looked at all four of them with equal fondness.

“I’m sorry, this is lovely, but I must insist you all give Mr. Lupin sometime to rest,” Madame Pomfrey said.

“Oh, I won’t make a nuisance much longer, Madame Pomfrey, but do let the boys stay a bit longer,” he said, that twinkle back in his eyes. “It does so warm my heart to see true friendships blossom here,” he remarked, giving James, Sirius, and Peter each an approving look in turn. “Take care then, boys. Don’t give Madame Pomfrey too much trouble,” he said, then turned to leave, his purple robes billowing majestically behind him. Madame Pomfrey followed, returning to her office as he left.

They all watched Dumbledore exit, wonderstruck. The feeling lingered even a few moments after the door had swung behind him. Truly, there was no one like Albus Dumbledore.

Eventually, though, the magic of that moment faded.

“ _It was ME, Professor_ ” Sirius mockingly broke the silence and then began to playfully laugh at James, giving him a light punch in the shoulder. “ _I’m James Potter, I’m the cleverest boy in the school. Notice me, Professor_ ,” he carried on. 

James wasted no time in punching Sirius back. “I wasn’t going to let _you_ take credit for my hard work.”

Remus laughed, “But in the process, I think you outed yourself for not habitually taking notes. If you did, you’d be able to just make a duplicate,” he pointed out.

“Don’t you turn on me too.”

“You brought this on yourself, mate,” Sirius teased before he quickly grabbed one of the pillows from the bed adjacent to Remus and gave James a good whack in the face with it.

Peter swifty came to realize where this was leading. He emitted a playful yelp before diving under the covers with Remus and pulling the blankets over his head.

James grunted from the impact, then jumped up and ran over to an empty bed, grabbing an unused pillow and smacking Sirius in the head with it. Remus laughed and simultaneously tried to hush them, but it was to no avail. Madame Pomfrey could hear a pillow fight a mile away, and she was soon standing back at the curtain divider.

“That’s it!” she managed to yell without exactly yelling. “You boys have to go. I told you, no rough-housing. It was very sweet of you to visit, now, go so that Mr. Lupin can have some rest and some _peace_.”  
James smiled back at Remus, as he returned the pillow. “Ah, well, it was good while it lasted.”

Sirius, meanwhile, sighed and struggled to drop his pillow. It was difficult for him to let go of excitement. “Alright, alright,” he eventually agreed and began to collect his belongings from the floor. 

Peter followed behind James and Sirius as they were being shepherded out the door.

“We’ll see you later, then, Remus,” Sirius said with a wide grin as he waved Remus goodbye. 

Remus grinned broadly, “Bye,” he said. Although he was sad to see them go so soon, Remus couldn’t remember feeling quite so much at ease with all the doubts he had about the endurance and genuineness of their friendship lifted. His body still ached terrible, and Madame Pomfrey was right that he _did_ need to sleep, but somehow, in spite of that, he still felt better overall.

_Fin_


End file.
